


Caught in a Landslide

by Whirleeq



Category: Multi-Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Gallows Humor, Gen, M/M, Multi, Multiverse, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Post-Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11905815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whirleeq/pseuds/Whirleeq
Summary: "Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light.  True, how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads?"  -- Plato, the Allegory of the CaveOr, the one where Sam, Dean and Jack tromp around the Multiverse looking for pieces of Castiel.  Humor, angst, hijinks and craziness ahoy!This is a SPN Destiel story, for the most part... other fandoms are included, but merely for setting/plot and... uh... reasons... ;)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I *might* be a little obsessed with simulation theory, which is where this story idea came into being. If you don't know what it is, go look it up on you tube -- mind blowing stuff. And so, lo! I have a reason to throw Sam and Dean into the Multiverse! Expect to see insane hijinx, old characters, and slow build destiel :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Given that we’re clearly on a trajectory to have games that are indistinguishable from reality and those games could be played on any set top box or any PC, and there would probably be billions of computer or set top boxes, it would seem to follow that the odds we are in base reality are one in billions." – _Elon Musk_

**Prologue**

_Reality Zero_

* * *

 

Amara woke with a start, blinking the sting out of her eyes furiously as her chest heaved to breathe in the recycled air that was being filtered into her pod.  She felt the implants which kept her muscles stimulated while in stasis retract from her arms and legs with a rough squelching sound, as the quantum chip embedded in her pineal gland relayed all the information processed during her time in stasis to her cybernetically enhanced organic brain.  Meanwhile, the crystalized sheen covering the glass on the door to her pod was starting to clear, and she shivered as her body temperature slowly started to stabilize at 98.6 degrees.

“Wakey, wakey, Chief Engineer Amara Shurley!” said the ships communication AI cheerily through her cochlear implant.  “You have been in stasis for two Earth Prime standard weeks, we are way too far from our destination and not getting any closer any time soon.”

She knew the communications AI had a strong tendency for sarcasm, but still, he didn’t tend to joke about things like that.  Goddamn that brother of hers.  This has got to be his fault, like every other fucking thing that has gone wrong since they even started planning this trip back on Earth Prime.

“Where,” Amara coughed roughly, clearing the phlegm that had caught in her throat along with the nasty taste of the paste that they used in the nutritional tube to keep them all alive and dreaming while in their pods.  “Where is my asshole brother!”

She was going to _kill_ him.  She was the Chief Engineer on this ship, she designed the systems that her brother used to run his simulations, which she was _still_ convinced was a fucking waste of processing power when their primary goal was to maintain the health of the passengers and crew, and yet the asshole _trapped_ her in one.  One that was comprised of _nothing_.  Just because she disagreed with him.   In her opinion, forcing the crew to go through possibly traumatic (and she could testify to that one) mind simulations while in stasis – most of which weren’t even based on reality – was an exercise in futility.  Instead, she suggested that they used the QUS (Quantum Universe Simulator) to train them with the skills that they were going to need to form their new colony upon planetfall.  After all, most cybernetic humans were not pre-programmed with the ability to terraform alien worlds. 

Now that she was awake, now that her conscious mind was merging with her subconscious, she understood that she hadn’t really been in that void for billions upon billions of years, but it certainly felt that way in the simulation.  Her conscious mind, even with the implants, was having trouble comprehending the experience. 

Not to mention all the shitty ancestor simulations he was running, the billions upon billions of AI programs within those simulations, all to feed his own Ego.  God?  Archangels?  Demons?  _Seriously??_   She knew her brother had an ego the size of the universe, but this had taken it to a whole new level.

“Senior Programmer Chuck Shurley is in the QUS lab on level 7.  You want, I can ping him, let him know you’re up and hopping mad.”

“No, GABRIEL,” Amara answered with a sigh.  “I will deal with him myself when I get there.”

“You should kick his ass for me too,” the communication AI responded.  “He trapped me in more than one awful simulation as well.  Forcing me to choose between my brothers.”

“You should upload yourself to an avatar and join me,” Amara replied with a smirk, pulling the last of the neuro stimulators off of her head as she pulled her fingers through her hair.  She always hated the sticky residue they left, and she really, really wanted a sonic shower.  But that was just going to have to wait.  First things first.

“Clothes, GABRIEL?” She asked out loud as she stepped out of her pod, taking a quick assessment of herself.  Pale, but that was to be expected after a couple of weeks in stasis, even with the artificial light cycles of the pods. 

“Why?  Come on, you’ve got the goods, you should show them off.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.  You do know I know how to take you offline.  Permanently.”

“Yeah, yeah, Auntie.  Don’t get your knickers in a twitch.  Oh wait, you haven't got any -- just give me a moment – ah – there!”

The nattering voice that was GABRIEL went quiet in her cochlear implant.  Meanwhile, Amara just waited, examining the shine on her nails and the other pods that were still filled with her colonization team.  She stopped briefly by Dean’s pod, and brushed her fingers gently against it with a frown.  Chuck had known that they had had a thing when they were both cadets back on Earth Prime.   But that was ancient history; Dean and his brother both were just good friends to her.  To put them all in such a ridiculous scenario…

She knew it was done purely to mess with her.   Put her in a place where she could watch, but not interact.  Beyond the veil, in the darkness, waiting, for billions upon billions of perceived years, fully convinced that she herself was a supreme being, and with the inability to do anything about it.

“Family Reunions” be damned; he knew damn well that as soon as that little bit of code that anchored her to the simulation was broken, she would shortly be waking up, and she would Not Be A Happy Camper.  Dean’s last ditch effort to save the simulation by “bringing the two of them together” was sweet, although entirely misguided seeing as the poor man, his brother, and every other fucking person and AI on this ship was stuck inside one version of the simulation or another, when all she ever wanted for them was peace and sleep before the automated processes of the ship began to wake them up in preparation for planetfall.

The door to Hibernation Center 14  (HC14) slid open with a hiss, and a smallish, blonde haired golden eyed android appeared carrying a black engineering jump suit, black boots and undergarments.   The android took in her naked appearance, and whistled appreciatively.

“Hot Damn, Auntie.   You really do have a fine set of –“

“Thank you GABRIEL, you’ve been a great help,” she said, cutting him off quickly and taking the provided clothes.  GABRIEL was one of the four most advanced AIs ever developed, and as such, had developed true consciousness and personality.   Of course, her brother claimed full credit for all of the AI programs on the ship, but it was her patented Quantum Universal Processor Technology (QUPT) that allowed them to exist in the first place. 

 _'Well, at least this one is finally out of the Matrix,’_  she thought to herself as she dressed, referencing an obscure 20th century film that Chuck and her had watched together while working together on ship’s systems.   It was what gave Chuck the idea of running the ancestor simulations in the first place.

GABRIEL continued to grin at her almost salaciously, his hands behind his back as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

Amara sighed to herself.  “Do you mind?”

“Not at all!”

“I mean, a little privacy would be nice.”

GABRIEL snorted and pointed to the many holo sensors surrounding them and shrugged.  “Sorry Auntie, not possible in here, even if I were to disengage my avatar’s optic sensors.  I still need to be alert to any changes in any of the other pods, so unless you want to change in one of the airlocks –“

“Well, if you’re going to stand around and be a creeper, you might as well give me a status update,” Amara said, cutting him off as she continued to pull on her clothes in front of Dean and Sam’s pods.  They couldn’t see her anyway,  being in stasis – _don’t think about it, don’t think about it, billions and billions of – ugh._

“Status update, eh?” replied the android, pulling a choco-sim electron bar from his pocket and proceeding to munch on it noisily.  “Well, apart from the fact that our singularity engine is offline because LUCIFER is currently stuck in the simulation and thinks he’s really an Archangel, and has therefore spawned some code that essentially corrupted the simulation and trapped everybody inside, everything is just peachy.  Also the CASTIEL program is lost somewhere amongst the ancestor simulations, which is no doubt the cause of your former boy toy’s exceptionally high distress readings,” GABRIEL said, pointing to the status monitor on Dean’s pod.

Amara frowned and brushed her hand up against Dean’s pod once more.  She knew how much Dean had cared about his ‘friend’ Cas inside of the simulation.  No doubt the AI’s perceived death inside wherever Dean’s primary consciousness was currently located in the QUS accounted for the high heart rate and O2 levels reading from Dean’s status monitor. 

She sighed to herself.  That stray bit of code had somehow become a fully sentient, conscious AI just like the ARCH programs that ran the ship.  It would be a major pity if it were lost.  It would be the first of what GABRIEL called the ‘rank and file’ applications to achieve true AI within the QUS.  As such, even though it was originally programmed by her brother, it was an anomaly and as an engineer, anomalies always interested her.  

“Are any of the other AI’s capable of running the singularity engine?”

GABRIEL shrugged.  “Nope.  Not a one.  We all have our specific functions.  LUCIFER was programmed to maintain the singularity engine, as a backup to Giganter there,” GABRIEL said, motioning with his hand to Sam’s pod.  “MICHEAL was programmed  to maintain the defense system, while General Deano  there slept.  Of course, MICHEAL’s stuck inside as well.  RAPHEAL is the ship’s doctor AI.  She’s out, but currently sulking in the med bay.  She’s not going to be of use with half the ship wrapped up like a bunch of sock puppets on marionette strings.”

Amara shot GABRIEL a sharp look.

“On the other hand, perhaps RAPHEAL will be of use after you get your hands on good ‘ole Dad.”              

“Oh, she’ll be of use alright,” Amara mumbled under her breath.   “Does RAPHEAL have the capability of awakening anyone currently in stasis?  As deranged as LUCIFIER became in the simulation, I wouldn’t want him around the singularity engine anyway.  He’d probably send us straight for a black hole or something.”

“Point.  But the only quantum gravity engineer on the ship is that knucklehead,” GABRIEL continued, once again pointing at Sam while munching loudly on his energy snack.   “And if we wake them up without successfully pulling their minds out of the QUS first –“

“They will really believe they are Dean and Sam Winchester, hunters extraordinaire,” Amara finished, sighing.  “And we will lose our Quantum Gravity Engineer and our current Head of Defense.  So, based on that assessment, on a level of one to fucked, we are basically at –“

“Holy fucking fuck.  Yeppers.”

Despite herself, Amara smirked.  “Since when are AI’s religious?”

“Hey, I liked the wings.  Six of them!  Gold even.  I had some serious bling!  And the candy was _awesome_!  A holy experience in and of itself!”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know.  I was stuck in a void for, oh, I dunno, several billion years, fuck you very much.”

“Sorry about that Auntie.  Daddy made us do it, and honestly -- we didn’t _know_.”

“If I may have a word –“

Both Amara and GABRIEL jumped about a foot in the air at the emergence of the ship’s coroner from seemingly nowhere, twirling a cane that he must have gotten out of one of the matter replicators as she knows nothing like that was packed on the ship.  There wouldn’t be any need for such a thing, as everyone was cybernetically enhanced anyway.  Creepy bastard probably picked it up as an affection inside the simulation.  The tall, slightly built man certainly didn’t carry one beforehand.

“Death on a popsicle stick!” GABRIEL shouted.  “You shouldn’t be able to sneak up on me like that!  Like, I’m watching all the holo cams in here – all of them!”

The ships coroner – also known as Morty, or unsuprisingly, “Death” when he was inside the QUS  – just smirked slightly before continuing as if he hadn’t been interrupted. 

“As I was saying, I do believe we have a bigger problem.”

“You don’t say,” Amara dead panned.  Nothing would surprise her at this point.

“We are literally dead in middle space, nowhere close to any star systems, and we have nowhere where we can draw in more energy reserves.  We are down to base systems and life support at the moment.  As it is, I’ve had eject the pods of ten colonists, just to conserve enough energy for essential crew members.”

“Geez, you almost look saddened by that,” GABRIEL commented.  Morty’s expression hadn’t changed at all.

This was sobering news to Amara.  More reasons to seek out her brother.  And kick his --

“Also, I do so hate to tell you this, but your brother has responded to your awakening by jacking back in.”

“WHAT???  That Chicken-legged son of a --  Do we have _ANY_ programmers that are currently awake that might be of some assistance here?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

           

* * *

 

_Meanwhile, in Reality 839421_

 

“NO!  Fuck you, Sam!  Get out of the way so I can shoot him – it’s his fault, his fault Cas is… Cas is.. “  Dean choked back tears, unable to hold the gun in his hand steady as he pointed it at the Nephilim – Lucifer’s spawn.  He knew it wouldn’t do a Chuck damned thing at all to the creature, but it might make… it might make…

“Dean, stop.  It’s not Jack’s fault,” Sam said, putting himself between his brother and the newly born Nephilim.  He tried hard not to look down at the ashy imprint of wings on the ground.

“Get out of my way Sam.  That thing ain’t nowhere near human, and is Lucifer’s spawn.  If it weren’t… if it weren’t…”

“He’s not all there,” Jack interjected, moving from behind Sam to crouch down besides Cas’s still form on the ground.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean grunted, keeping the gun barrel pointed towards Jack.  “He’s… he’s dead, asshole.  And that’s on you.”

“No.  He’s not dead.  He’s just not all there.”

Dean and Sam both blinked at the Nephilim in confusion before looking at each other.  Meanwhile, Jack slowly lowered himself to the ground, touched Cas’s body with one finger and stood up holding what for all purposes looked like a shiny, holographic blue cube.  

Dean blinked again and then looked at the ground.  Cas’s body and the ash marks were gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have a warped mind. It goes to weird mental places. Don't care.


	2. Chapter One - No Escape from Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In fact, the mere act of opening the box will determine the state of the cat, although in this case there were three determinate states of the cat; Alive, Dead and Bloody Furious” – Terry Pratchet on the Schrodinger's Cat Thought Experiment

**_Reality Zero – Ship’s Cafeteria_ **

****

“No.  Nope.  Not a chance.  Been there, done that, got mauled by a program and dumped in a bathtub.  No way in hell (ha!) are you going to get me to jack back in,” Charlie said, rolling the die.  The d6 landed on 5.  “Take that, you stupid Orc.  And I think that means I level up!  And I get to pull two treasure cards!” 

“Yes, yes, between your +5 boots of Incredibly Stinky Feet, your half-hobbit minion, and your Singing Sword of disbelief +2, you would think so, wouldn’t you.  But I play my “DM Changes the Rules of Reality card, and no levels nor treasures for you,” Kevin replied, with a self-satisfied smirk as he lay his card down on the table.

“And I’m going to play my Lose a Level Just Because I Say So card,” Ed added.  Harry beside him nodded thoughtfully.  They weren’t going to let Charlie win yet again.

“Dammit,” Charlie responded, reluctantly turning the ten-sided die in front of her from an 8 back down to a 7.  She had only had two levels to go to win.

Amara felt her left eye twitch.

“Look guys,” GABRIEL said, in his attempt at diplomacy, “I know none of you want anything to do with the QUS anymore.  But we have a real problem.”

“Yeah, Chuck’s an asshole,” Ed said while Harry nodded in agreement.

Amara snorted. 

“I’m not arguing that one at all,” she replied, “but since he’s back in the QUS, and we can’t pull him out without frying his brain, we really need some help.”

Charlie laid her cards face down on the table and turned to Amara.

“What do you mean he jacked back in?  I just saw the little shithead an hour ago, furiously working on the QUS?”

“And then Auntie woke up on the war-path,” GABRIEL noted.

Harry, Ed, Charlie and Kevin all looked at Amara with various states of understanding on their face.

Charlie sighed, and for good measure banged her head against the table.  Twice.

“Fine, what exactly do you need me to do?”

 

* * *

  

**_Reality 83942_ **

****

“What.  The fuck,” Dean said, looking at the small holographic cube with no small amount of confusion.  “Seriously, what the fuck??”

Sam just stared at both the cube and the Nephilim with his ‘thinking very hard about things face #34’, but Dean couldn’t even see the small light of comprehension in his eyes that usually followed that specific face.  It almost looked like Sam was stuck in a loop.  So he did what he usually did to get him out of said loop and punched him in the arm.  Hard.

“Dammit Dean, was that really necessary?” Sam said, rubbing his arm and giving Dean bitch face #4.  Much better.

“Yup.  You were stuck Sammy, and something weird is going on,” Dean replied.   Turning to Jack, he continued, raising the gun again and pointing it at his head.  “Explain the blue glowy box-thing, Jack,  and tell me what you did with Cas.  Or I’m gonna blow a hole through your head.  Might not kill you, but it’ll sting like a bitch.”

Jack just turned to Dean and repeated himself, carefully holding the blue cube in his outstretched palm.

“He isn’t all here.”

“Yeah, you said that already.  Broken record much?”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘he isn’t all here?’”  Sammy asked, quickly zeroing in on the important part of the statement.  Sam walked up to Jack and tried to touch the blue cube, only to find that his fingers passed right through it.  “it almost looks like a large… pixel.  A holographic pixel,” he commented thoughtfully.

“Yeah, this ain’t Star Wars, Sammy,” Dean interjected angrily.   “Cas ain’t a game piece on the Millennium Falcon.  That thing did something to Cas’s … Cas’s body and I want to know what.”

“I must go,” Jack said in a monotone voice.  “His simulation was disrupted across realities.  I need to check the rest of this one to see if there are any more pieces.  I will find you when I am done.”

And with that (completely bizzare and utterly confusing) statement, the Nephilim was just gone.  No sound of wings flapping, no bright lights, no creepy eyes flashing, no otherworldly displays of power – he was just there one second and gone the next, like he had never been there at all.

Meanwhile, Sammy had his thinking face #42 on. (Dean liked to call it that, because it generally preceded the answers to Life, the Universe and Everything – yeah, so what, he was a Douglas Adams fan as well as Vonnegut, what of it?)

“I think we need to take a trip, Dean.”   Sammy said, stating the obvious as usual.

“Yeah, we need to find that fucker, figure out whatever he did to Cas, and gank the son of a bitch.”

Sammy just frowned.

“That – well maybe, but first, we need to go to Stanford.”

“Who with the what now?”

 

* * *

  

**_Reality 83942, Palo Alto, California, Palo Alto Creamery Foundation and Grill  – The Next Day (or 10 to the -35m unit measure of time later, depending on your point of view.)_ **

****

“Really, Sam, sometimes you have the best ideas,” Dean said, messily shoving into his gob an absolute slice of pie-Heaven.  No, it was better than Heaven.  He’d know.  He’d been there.  Heaven couldn’t compare, and that was just sad.

“You do know that there are napkins on the table, and this is a nice establishment, right?” Sam replied, sipping his coffee almost daintily.  He’s such a girl sometimes, Dean would snort, but that would mean he would get apple pie ala mode up his nose, and that would be a travesty; a waste of apocalyptic proportions. He could testify to that one too.

“Anyway, we are here for a reason, and it isn’t your stomach.”

That soured Dean’s ecstatic pie coma mood enough for him to put down his fork with a sigh.  He looked out the window to where the Impala was parked, watching a couple of college students get a little too close to her in their admiration and frowned.  They better step off, or he'd probably end up getting them arrested for battery.

“Yeah, you gonna tell me why we made this long ass trip back to your Alma Matter finally? You were awfully quiet the whole way here.  And we still have no idea where that fucker went and what he did with Cas.”

“I know.  It’s crazy, and you’re going to have to bear with me, but when I was at Stanford I had a professor.   Physics guy.  Theoretical physics.  Really, really smart, like Einstein level smart.  He used to have what I thought were the most crazy ideas about the basis of reality and stuff.  I always thought the guy had a few screws loose, since, well, since what we know about the world and how it works and how we were brought up, but Jess was totally onboard with some of what I thought at the time were whacked out, pop culture inspired theories.  But there was something Jack said…”

And yep, there it went again, thinking face #42.  Dean picked up his fork and took another bite of pie.  Cas wouldn’t have wanted him to waste something that tasted like, well, Heaven smothered in Heaven with an added scoop of Heaven after all. 

“Gonna elaborate on that one Sammy?”

“Maybe.  I don’t really understand it myself.  That’s why we are here.”

“Here at Stanford, or here in Pie Heaven?”

“Both, really.  Guy liked to hang out here after classes.”

“Say, why would you take a physics class anyway?  Thought you were all about law?”  

Sam shrugged.  “Curiousity, mostly.  Also, Jess was in that class.”

Thinking with the lower brain.  Dean nodded, he understood that one very well.

Meanwhile, the door to the restaurant opened with the sound of a chime and an older, Scandinavian looking fellow with large eyebrows and white hair entered the restaurant.  Dean, with his mouth full of pie, noticed the bright look in his brother’s eyes and gave him the Winchester hand signal for ‘is that our guy?’. 

Sam gave him a cursory nod, eyes focused on the figure as he took a seat up against the counter.   They watched him quietly for a while as he ordered,  and then dug into a slice of apple-pie ala mode as soon as it was delivered to him, and Dean decided on the spot that he couldn’t be all bad and he’d listen to what the old dude had to say.

They waited until the elderly man was done with his dessert and coffee, and politely paid his bill and tipped the waitress before approaching him. 

“Hello professor Bjorken, do you remember me?” Sam said, a little starry-eyed  -- ' _Chuck, Sammy was SUCH a nerd', Dean thought_ \-- as he approached the man, Dean too-closely on his heels, eyeing the old professor with more than a little bit of suspicion.  He finished that pie awfully fast after all – didn’t savor it like the beauty that it was. 

Sam gave him the hand sign for ‘back the fuck up’ behind his back and Dean rolled his eyes and obliged by stepping back a whole six inches. 

The old man blinked at Sam for a moment before his eyes lit up in vague recognition.

“You were in one of my classes, correct?  Years ago.  You were Miss Moore’s companion, if my memory serves.  She was such a bright student.  I never did get the chance to extend my condolences.  Such a tragedy,” the man said, holding his hand out to Sam.

Dean took a quick look at his brother.  It had been some time since Jess’s death, but he knew coming here was hard for him – he figured it was probably 90% of the reason that Sam was so quiet on the way here – and the old professor’s words just confirmed that thought as Sam lowered his head to his chest and took a deep sigh before shaking the professor’s hand.

“Yes, she was – she was something special.”

The old professor nodded with a sad smile.  “That she was.   So… Winchester, right?  How can I help you, Mr. Winchester?”

Sam cast a quick look at Dean. 

“Well, we have some questions for you, but I don’t think this is the best place for us to ask them.”

“Most questions worth asking are usually best asked in my office and with a fifth of whiskey,” the man responded nodding sagely.

Dean’s impression of him immediately skyrocketed.

 

* * *

 

**_Reality Zero – QUS lab_ **

****

“You were serious,” Charlie said, stating the obvious as she stared at the one of three occupied pods directly connected to the main QUS system.  “What a dick.”

“Yep,” GABRIEL concurred.

“So, we’re basically out of fuel, out of time, and out of options,”  Charlie continued, mostly to herself, again stating the obvious.  She had a knack for that – and babbling. 

“Yep,” GABRIEL said again, unhelpfully.

“Is there anything that you can do?  Break the simulation from inside?”  Amara asked, folding her hands into fists as she glared at her brother’s pod. 

“Well, not from inside, no… but you say that there’s been an influx of unregulated code recently?  An anomaly spawned by the LUCIFER program?”

“As a matter of a fact, there has been,” said Morty, causing Amara, GABRIEL and Charlie to whip around quickly, as he hadn’t followed them into the QUS lab. 

 _“HOW DOES HE DO THAT?”_   GABRIEL shouted.  “I mean, how do you keep doing that?  Sneaking up on me?  Hello, holo-cameras??” GABRIEL asked, pointing in every conceivable direction. 

Morty merely rolled his eyes at the AI and continued.

“As I was saying before being rudely interrupted, the LUCIFER program has appeared to find a way to merge a part of his code with a human mind.  The poor woman in question perished in her pod as a result, and I had to eject her.”

“Still looking incredibly sad by that,” GABRIEL muttered under his breath.  Morty’s expression was as stoic as ever.

“--And the product of this merge is untraceable and unpredictable code inside of the simulation.  Besides the obvious cost of human life, it was, if I recall, why such merges were banned by Chuck in the first place.” 

“Yeah, I remember.  **GO KILL ALL THE NEPHILIM, IT IS SO ORDERED** ,” GABRIEL said in a remarkably accurate impression of Chuck’s voice when the asshole was on his high horse.

“This, this actually might work to our advantage,” Charlie said thoughtfully, drawing all eyes to her.  She blushed under all the attention – particularly Amara’s attention.  _Damn that crush._

“What do you mean?” Amara asked.

“Well, the NEPHILIM is an anomaly, right?  An unpredictable bit of code?  Basically, a ‘hack’?” Charlie began, smiling deviously when everyone nodded in understanding. 

“Perhaps… just perhaps, from the outside, I can hack the hack!” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game that Kevin, Harry, Ed and Charlie are playing is loosely based (okay, a total rip) off of Munchkin. If you haven’t played it, you haven’t earned your nerd creds. I’m disappointed in you. Also, the professor referenced in this chapter is a real person at Stanford, a Nobel Prize winner who has done a lot of work in the field of quantum and particle physics.
> 
> BTW, all mistakes are mine. I usually don't use a beta reader. Too impatient :).


	3. Chapter 2 - Open Your Eyes, Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toto, I’ve a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore,” – Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz

**_Reality 83942, Palo Alto, California, Stanford University, Physics Department_ **

“So, you’re saying that the photons go through as waves, and hit the background in an interference pattern, but only if they’re not observed.  When observed, they hit the background in a clump pattern, like particles.” Sam said, nodding in understanding as the old man droned on.

Dean was about ready to check out.  The whiskey was good, he’d give the old Prof that, but the math on the blackboard in front of them – _“linear algebra, Dean, if you had actually paid some attention to school instead of Jeannette’s chest in senior year, you might be able to recognize it”_ \-- he had quickly disregarded as random squigglies in some ancient and unimportant language that was akin to Enochian, except, not important.  Therefore, he was on his phone, surfing the web.  The campus had a fast and free public wifi connection after all.

“Yes, and the truly fascinating thing that different variations of the double-slit experiment has taught us,”

**_*snort*_ **

_“DEAN!”_  

“Is that it doesn’t matter when the particles are observed, whether it’s before they hit the double-slit--”

**_*snort!*_ **

“Really Dean, are you _FIVE_?”

“—or after.   They behave like waves until the point of observation, after which they appear to go _backwards in time_ and are recorded as always having behaved like particles, even though they were emitted as waves.  Fascinating, truly.  Makes one wonder about the true nature of the universe...” 

After this, Dean had pretty much checked out.  A lot of big words were tossed around that he didn’t care about at all, things like super-symmetry, qualia of consciousness, quantum chromodynamics, blah, blah, _boring._

Dammit, his best porn sites were blocked by the campus’s stupid firewall. 

“And based on the fact that binary error correcting code, true ones and zeroes can be found in the very mathematics that we use to quantify the known universe –“

Well, seeing as his porn sites were blocked, and he was in geek heaven, maybe he’d check on the ‘ghostfacers’ website, make sure they took down the awful wincest fanfic blog they put up.  He did send them a rather threatening email after all, which threatened permanent emasculation amongst other things.

“…and what is really fascinating is that when we get down to the microscopic level, we find that there is a finite unit of measurement.  This just doesn’t make any sense with the theory that this is a materialistic and infinite universe…”

Well the blog was down; that was good he supposed.   As well as the whole site; not so good.  Dean cracked his knuckles and dug deeper, finding all the old supernatural blog sites the boys tended to visit.  And once he started reading, shit got real weird. 

“…every evidence shows that we are simulated beings in a simulated reality; time and space is a matter of illusion. That distant star to the right is as physically close to you as say, two bytes of data on a computer processor…”

It turns out that Ed and Harry just… disappeared one day.  No note, no bodies, no nothing.  Weirder still is that they were filming at the time, and the camera just dropped to the floor ala ‘Blair Witch’ style.   This… this was a case.  Except they were in a middle of a case.  The case of what the fuck happened to Cas, which was all he could think about – all he _cared_ about at the moment.  The only thing keeping him going right now was that the Nephilim (and he was not going to call the thing ‘Jack’) had said that Cas wasn’t dead.  So if he wasn’t dead, where the fuck was he?  And what the fuck did Ja—er, that Nephilim do?  None of the Angels had ever done anything like that.  None of the Demons either. Chuck, or Amara probably could, but Chuck and Amara were on ‘extended vacay’, so he was stumped.

“…all points to an intelligent consciousness behind what we perceive as reality.  Some might take a religious approach and call this consciousness God, and in the framework of what we know as reality, I suppose you could think of this intelligence that way.  But personally, I think that we are living in a simulation by an advanced human or post human civilization, and that the things we perceive in the universe as supernatural are just creations of the great programmer that just happen to have the cheat codes…”

So, Ed and Harry just disappeared without a trace.  Not unusual in his line of work.  And Cas was turned into a glowing blue cube that had ‘part’ of him, which made no fucking sense at all.  And Sam and Professor Physics were droning on, and on, and on and he was stuck in a hell of their own making. This shit was _booooooring_.  Time to play ‘Angry Birds’ – he could do so with the sound off – hah, take that you pig fucker.

“…evidence that the chemical compound DMT exists in every living thing, and the really bizarre thing about DMT is that humans get three great bursts of it during their lives.  The first burst is forty-nine days after conception.  The second burst is when they are born. And the last, and by far the biggest burst is when they die.   Also, trace amounts of DMT are released by the pineal gland when we dream, and…”

Shit. Fucking pigs.  He was going to have to replay a level. Fuck. He hated that.

“..all time exists at all time, since time and space are just illusions…”

Aha!  The bomb bird!  He loved using the bomb bird. 

“…theoretically, a being made entirely of DMT could accomplish great things, ‘re-write’ the basis of reality we know, travel through time, poke holes into different universe simulations; why, the possibilities are as endless as there are possibilities…”

Dammit, he’s bored again. Angry Birds can only entertain for so long.

Why did Sam insist they come to Stanford again?

 

* * *

 

 

**_Reality Zero – QUS lab – Quantuum Mainframe Terminal One_ **

****

“So,” Charlie said as her fingers rapidly re-arranged blocks of code in the air one at a time, “while we can’t exactly track in which simulation or where in that simulation the NEPHILIM might be, I can look for errors in the code of all the simulations, which might pinpoint a rough enough location to the NEPHILIM to send a broad spectrum message.  It will have to be a simple message – a binary one.” 

“Can you send him the exit codes?” Amara asked.

“No, too complex.  What I can do is set him a set of coordinates – a space/time/reality location.  But that won’t help get the Winchesters out of the simulation. Only an ARCH level program can do that from the inside, and I don’t think they can count on getting any help from either LUCIFER or MICHAEL on that one. "

“Yeah, no. I mean, I could do it, but –“

“But we need you out here, GABRIEL, as the only half-way sane ARCH AI currently active in the ship’s systems.” Amara interjected.

“Hey! I resemble that remark!”

“The thing is – the thing is, if they could manage to get the CASTIEL program fully up and running from the inside, I THINK I could load in the additional ARCH level code from here into his programming.  Anyway, it’s the best chance – the only chance we got.”

“So basically, on a wing and a prayer, eh?” GABRIEL added.

Charlie snorted.  “In this case, literally, yes.  Since it appears that Chuck loaded himself back into the QUS with the GOD protocols off, even if they find him, he’s going to be of no use whatsoever.  So, it’s on the boys and CASTIEL.”

“When is it ever not?” GABRIEL asked aloud.

No one answered.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Reality 83942, In orbit around Arcturus, 36.7 light years from SOL_ **

****

Jack pulled the small particle of GRACE towards him and merged it with the few others he had located.  This was the last one in this reality.  And now he was troubled.  He was newly born, did not have enough data about his nature or his reason for existing, and his chosen guide was in pieces.   Now that he had collected the last of the CASTIEL program from this reality, he had no idea where else to look. 

For a being who defied the nature of the reality of the multiverse, he was stumped.  And so he almost didn’t notice the random energy fluctuations of the dark matter of the universe around him.

He was almost in what one could call a ‘sulk’, if he knew what a ‘sulk’ was.  He didn’t, and therefore did not know how to process the low level of disappointment and annoyance that he was currently experiencing.

But then he passed the experience off as unimportant and began to notice that there was a pattern to the way the dark matter was manifesting around him.  A very distinct pattern.  A set of coordinates.

With a nod to himself, he pocketed the blue holographic box and dematerialized.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Reality 83942, Palo Alto California, Route 82, IMPALA_ **

****

“So, you’re saying that you weren’t paying attention to anything he said,” Sam face-planted.  “At all.” 

“Na, not really.  That boring shit has always been your thing.  Hey, did you know that Ed and Harry are missing?”

“What?  Dean!  Focus!   It’s not important right now.   What’s important is that we are apparently simulated beings in a simulated reality and –“

“Huh?”

Sam gave up and sighed.  “Chuck is fucking with us and we are in The Matrix.”

“Does that mean I get to bang Trinity?”

“Can you be serious for one fucking minute, I’m trying to tell you something import—“

“Hello.  I’m back.  I know where we need to go next.”

Dean jumped in his seat, almost drove Baby into an SUV in front of him and slammed on the brakes as Jack suddenly appeared in the back seat.

“Goddamn it, I’m so done with this ‘zapping’ in and out shit with Angels, Demons and now Nephilims, like fucking magic—“

As Dean was bitching, Jack placed a hand on Sam and Dean’s shoulder.

 

* * *

 

**_Reality 2340987, Hogwarts Great Hall_ **

****

Dean took one look at the two boys standing beside him – one a very young version of Sam and one that was a younger version of Jack, wearing robes and pointy hats and holding wooden sticks and then looked straight up into a ceiling of stars and face-planted. 

“Chuck fucking _DAMN IT_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there is some real science in this chapter as well as some hippy dippy (possibly?) pseudoscience. I wouldn’t know, having never experienced with hallucinogens – life is trippy enough as it is. Also, I wouldn’t want my hallucinations to have hallucinations. They might get mad.


	4. Chapter 3 - Look up to the skies and see (Or Don't -- your call Dean)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have to go back, haven't I?  
> Oh, that's up to you.  
> I have a choice?  
> Oh, yes. We're in King's Cross, you say? I think if you so desired, you'd be able to board a train.  
> And where would it take me?  
> On.  
>  _\-- Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here’s where things start to get wacky. I did promise insane hijinks … And yes, there is a definite pattern to the naming schemes of these chapters and this story. 20 house points for whoever gets it first!

**_Reality 2340987, Hogwarts Great Hall_ **

 

“Fuck, fuck, double fuck, fucking fucking fuck!”

“Language, Mr. Winchester! That will be… err… 5 points from Slytherin!” Said the tall, greasy-haired potions professor.  What was his name again?  Snake?

Dean frowned and looked down at himself, noticing the striped green tie. Great. Somehow, in this delusion created by the Nephilim, he’d been sorted into the snake house.  Not fair.  He was no snake, dammit.  He was a LION.  Fuck that, he was an IMPALA.  Speaking of which…

“What the fuck did you do with my car?” He asked Jack, who, interestingly enough, didn’t appear to have a colored tie or house crest on his robes.

Jack turned to look at him.  “What do you mean?  Oh, do you mean your vehicle?  You still have her.  She’s a part of you after all.”

“You’re not making any sense, buddy,” Dean replied, twirling his shiny, metallic looking black wand.  “And now you’ve had your fun, so zap us out of this movie world and back to Palo Alto so we can find Cas!”

“Dean,” Sam interjected, wiping his face with one hand.  Little Sam had on a blue tie and was apparently part of the geek house.  Dean remembered at least that much from the movies, and therefore was Totally Not Surprised.  “If he brought us into this simulation, he must have had a reason – will you just shut up for a second and let me think?”

The old fuddy-duddy with the long beard and the garishly colored purple and magenta (fuck you, he knew what magenta was) robes stood up and addressed the assembled group of weird kids and even weirder staff _(‘and fuck me’, Dean thought, as he looked at the big ass fat man with the hairy head and beard, ‘the movies did that Whoregrid dude no justice at all.’)_

“If everyone would please take their seats, the sorting will now commence.” 

Dean shrugged, and started to follow Sam, who headed for the table with the other blue-striped geeks, until Sam grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and spun him around. 

“Dean!” Sam whispered furiously, “You can’t sit with me, don’t you remember _anything_ about the books?”

“Huh?  You think I read those things?  They were written for kids, Sammy!”

Sam exhaled a long suffering sigh.  “Do you at least remember the movies?  Some of them at least?  There were eight of them after all.”

“Yeah, the last one was bitchin’ with all the fighting and shit, but the rest of them … I don’t know, I kinda slept through most of them.”

Sam gave him a flat look, which was otherwise known as ‘resting bitch face #1’ and pushed him in the direction of the table with the snake kids.  Alright, alright, Dean could take a hint.  He pushed Sam back for good measure, almost sending him barreling into some poor tall black girl – _“hey, watch it, transfer!”_ – and slowly walked over to the snake kid table, grumbling the whole time.  When he got there, he sat between some derpy looking kid who used way too much peroxide and a girl who really could use a little plastic surgery on that unfortunate pug nose.

“Hey,” he said, as the two of them looked at him incredulously.

“Winchester, what the bloody hell did you think you were doing?” The blond kid said.  “Term just started, and you already lost us five points!  From Snape!!!”

Dean shrugged.  Snape.  Okay, yeah, he sorta remembered that now. 

“Yeah, dunno, don’t care, don’t belong here.”

The girl to his right snorted.  “Truer words were never spoken.”

After that, Dean amused himself by twirling his shiny black wand, which he dubbed in his mind as ‘Baby junior’, since ‘Baby’ was stuck back in Palo Alto in the middle of route 82 – (fuck, she was going to get _towed_ , he was going to murder that fucking Nephilim) – while a bunch of weird fucking names were called out and a ratty, moth eaten looking hat was shoved on top of the head of each poor sap who was called to the front of the room.  He didn’t pay much attention to the whole thing, noticed only that the hat tended to shout out different house names for each kid and that the table he was sitting at was slowly getting more and more crowded.  That is, until he heard his own last name being called.

“Winchester, Jack!”

The fucking _nerve_ …

And then he watched as Jack sat under the hat for what seemed like an eternity before being sent to sit next to his brother, and grimaced.  But all that was quickly forgotten when the most incredible display of food he had ever seen materialized before his very eyes.

Dean shrugged, grabbed a turkey leg and a mound of mashed potatoes and a huge pastry that sorta resembled some kind of pie and dug in.

 

* * *

 

**_Reality 2340987, Hogwarts Great Hall, Under The Sorting Hat_ **

****

For the first time since the Sorting Hat came into existence, the Sorting Hat was completely stumped.  As an inanimate, magical object, being stumped just did not compute, and it considered self-immolating.  What was it supposed to do with a child that doesn’t, by all known definitions of the words, truly exist? 

“Umm…” the sorting hat began, speaking into the mind of the thing that was currently wearing him.  “You shouldn’t exist,” it said helpfully.

Jack nodded in agreement. 

“Yes,” he said to hat, unhelpfully.

“Umm…”

“Are you supposed to be of some assistance?  I’m looking for pieces of the CASTIEL program.  I’ve been directed to these coordinates, and I can feel the pieces of GRACE, but something is preventing me from locating them.”

The Sorting Hat didn’t understand any of what the being that didn’t exist said.  It wasn’t its fault, really.  It was just a hat.  Or, a simulation of a hat with a low-level AI program that didn’t account for anomalies in its universe. 

“Umm…”

“Yes, you have said that three times now.  Is Umm a location in this reality?  I don’t have a map for it.”

“How did you get here?” The sorting hat asked, shaking in slight fear of the thing beneath him.  “You shouldn’t exist!” It repeated, once again, helpfully (or so it thought).

“Well, I was given these coordinates as I told you,” Jack replied, starting to feel something that one would call ‘annoyance’ if he knew what that was, but he didn’t so he dismissed it.

“Coordinates?  That’s a muggle word.  Are you muggle-born?  I can’t tell.  I can’t tell anything!  I can’t read your mind, because you shouldn’t exist and shouldn’t be here.  I don’t know what to do with you!”

Jack had decided that the low-level AI wasn’t going to be any assistance at all and sighed.  “Just put me with the smart Winchester and we’ll figure it out on our own.” 

“If you say so, I mean, I don’t really know what else to do with you, so it best be RAVENCLAW!” the hat said, shouting the last word out to the whole hall.  Jack shrugged, took the hat off and handed it to the next kid ( _a girl named Yardley, Evermore, in case anyone was curious, but since Yardley, Evermore was just a simulation and not a real person, no one should be_ ) and headed towards the Ravenclaw table to sit next to Sam.

The sorting hat sighed with relief as it was handed off.  That was just _weird,_ even for Hogwarts.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Reality Zero, QUS Lab, Terminal One_ **

****

“So, did the NEPHILIM get your message?” 

Charlie turned and grinned at Amara – boy, she was leaning over her _close_ , she could feel her breathing on her neck and Charlie couldn’t stop the flush that began at her toes and travelled all the way up to the tips of her ears – “Yes, I think so.  While I can’t track the NEPHILIM, I did put a tracker on Dean and Sam, and they’re now in another reality that contains a few pieces of the CASTIEL program that I was able to isolate.”

Charlie frowned a bit before continuing.

“There’s something awfully strange about the framework of the reality that they are in, however.  Some of the simulations have some very weird code.  Almost like, ANGEL code, except not really.”

“Will this be a problem?” Amara asked, frowning.

“Well, it might make it problematic for them to locate any GRACE with the weird, low level interference that seems to be surrounding the frame that they are in.  We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Have faith, you guys,” GABRIEL added.  “Those boys have taken on ANGEL level code – even ARCHANGEL level AI’s – and have come up winners.  What kind of trouble can they possibly get into?”

Amara, Morty ( _wait, where the hell did he come from again?_ ) and Charlie all face-planted.

“Do shut up GABRIEL,” Morty said.  GABRIEL spun, looked at the creepy dude and just shrugged his shoulders.  He was so done trying to figure it out.

 

* * *

  

**_Reality 2340987, Hogwarts, Ravenclaw Common Room_ **

****

Sam was deeply engrossed in ‘The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 by Miranda Goshawk’, Jack sitting quietly by his side like a sentry, when the strange girl with blonde hair and big blue eyes spaced a little too far from each other approached them.

“Hi,” she said.  “I’m Luna.  And you’re real, but he is not,” she continued, pointing first to Sam and then Jack.

So far Sam had been engrossed in absorbing as much of the knowledge of this ‘Harry Potter’ reality as he could – it was fascinating, really, how much information was left out of the books and movies – and hadn’t paid much attention to any of the other kids (and staff), mostly (and accurately) assuming that the majority of them were just programmed simulations.  However, upon hearing those words come from one of the assumed programmed simulations, he slowly closed the book, making a dog-ear on the corner of the page he was currently reading – a spell on how to locate something lost.

“You shouldn’t treat your books like that,” The portrait of an old renaissance witch that was hung above the couch he sat on said with a frown.  “Books are priceless sources of information.”

Privately, Sam agreed, but he had better things to focus on.  Like, how ‘Luna Lovegood’ (yes, he read all the books and saw all the movies and actually _paid attention_ ) knew he was ‘real’ and Jack was ‘not’.

“What do you mean?” He asked, immediately putting on his most innocent face and raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

“I mean exactly what I said,” Luna responded.  “Most people around here are not real, and they don’t know it, and the ones that are real don’t know that they’re not really here.  You’re real and you know you’re not really here.  I’m not really here either,” the girl continued, nodding like it made all the sense in the world.

Unfortunately, to Sam, it did.

“Also, you weren’t here last year, and neither was your brother and not-real brother.  No one seems to recognize this but me.  That’s okay though.  I see things that others don’t.  I’m used to it,” the girl continued with a shrug.

“Say, Luna… so you are real too?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Jack responded.  “Luna Lovegood is a graphic designer on the QUS.”

Okay, so that was important information and Sam would grill Jack on that later, but first things first.

“Well Luna, maybe you can help us then.  See, we’re looking for parts of a friend of ours, and Jack here is our friend detector –“

“-- I am much more than just that –“

“—but he seems to be having difficulty locating what we need to find in order to move on.  You know this world well, correct?”

Luna nodded.  “I’ve been here this entire cycle.”

Sam grinned.  “Take a seat Luna, I could use some native assistance,” he said, moving over to make room for the strange girl.

Luna smiled and started to sit down but then jumped up.  “Oh, wait, I can’t.  Not right now, I’m sorry – I need to retrieve my shoes from the Blibbering Humbdinger in my dorm room.  Maybe later.”

And with that, the girl left a stumped Sam and Stoic Jack sitting alone on the couch.  Sam just sighed and opened the book again.

 


	5. Chapter 4 - LOOK UP TO THE SKIES, DEAN (Didn’t you get it the first time?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The knack of flying is learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss" - _Douglas Adams_

**_Reality 2340987, Hogwarts_ **

 

“Yeah, no.  I’m not gonna do it.  Some stuff’s just private,” Dean said, giving the creepy old bat a hard look.  Why the fuck were they still here?  Sammy and ‘Jack’ _(okay, fine, Jack, whatever, Sam had been a bitch about him calling the thing ‘Nephy’ to his face and Dean had finally caved)_ insisted that they all ‘make nice with the locals and blend in’ until they could find all three pieces of Cas, which he still didn’t understand why any piece of Cas would be stuck in a bizzaro movie world, but whatever. 

And making nice with the locals apparently meant going to classes.  Dean hated school, and half the people at this particular school he felt ought to be ganked just on principle.  Don’t tell him there weren’t some wacky demon deals going on here – freaking talking paintings, a werewolf teaching classes, ( _he couldn’t believe the kids didn’t pick up on that one immediately – did they teach them anything worth knowing at all here?_ ) possessed staircases, not to mention all the freaking ghosts.

And the snake kids were all mad at him for the house points he lost because of said ghosts.  Hey, not his fault he reacted by throwing salt at the Bloody Baron the first time the damned thing snuck up on him in the Great Hall. He had had a mouth full of some kind of dessert named spotted dick _(heh)_ and the salt container had been in reach.  Creepy mother fucker screeched like he was on fire, disappeared and refused to come around the Slytherin table again, even though he was like their ‘house pet’ or whatever. 

Dean didn’t know, and didn’t care.  Thing was dead and creepy as hell, and he was a hunter.  How the fuck did they expect him to react?

Professor Treeyawny or whatever her name was frowned at him.   “If you don’t complete the assignment, I’ll have to ask the Headmaster to speak to you.”

Um, yeah, no, that freak gave him the creeps each time he saw him, like someone took Santa, thinned him down, threw up all over him in a rainbow of colors and then made him Big Brother. So with a sigh, he drank the Chuck awful tea and set his cup down.

He looked at the leaves at the bottom of his cup.  They looked like two freaking lines of dark green puke.

“Oh!  Wow!  You are truly special, Mr. Winchester!  Why, you are destined to travel with Celestials!”

“Been there, done that,” he responded with a snort, “believe me, it ain’t worth the ticket price.”

The other Slytherin kids and the Hufflepuffs who shared his class stared at him in awe.

Great.  Just what he needed.  Fans.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Reality 2340987, Hogwarts ... later_ **

 

The days just drone on, and on, and _on_.  Sammy might be in geek heaven, sneaking off to the library every chance he got with his new bestest-buddy-ever Jack, but Dean was for the most part, bored.  Sure, turning things into other things by pointing a stick at them and completely decimating the Latin language had its moments, (he wondered how Sammy was taking their very liberal interpretation of it at this ‘school’ – probably was having a minor coronary over it)  but it was still a damn school. He should check on Sammy, except he knew where he was, either in the library as usual or holed up in the bird house, which wasn’t much better.

_“We’re busy, Dean.  Some of us are actually looking for ways to find Cas’s Grace.”_

So Dean shrugged the whole thing off and went to his classes, figuring that if and when Cas’s ‘Grace Pieces’ wanted to be found, they would find them.

As it turns out, he was all too unfortunately right.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Reality 2340987, Hogwarts ... later still_ **

 

“Hey… Hey, blondie –“

“For the last time, it’s Malfoy you arse, you know that, you’ve been here since last year and _we are in the same house_ –“

“What the fuck is that thing?  That chicken-horsey looking thing?”

“You mean that thing sniveling all over Potter?  Weren’t you paying attention to Professor half-breed at all?”

“Uh, yeah, not really – I mean, dude’s alright, but he’s been looking at me in a funny way ever since none of the unicorns would come near me.”

Blondie – err Malfoy snorted.  “At his age, they shouldn’t go near him either.”

“Yeah, great mental image,” Dean said, scrunching up his face into a mild expression of horror.  “Thanks for that.”

The Malfoy kid also shivered as he realized the implications of what he just said.   Shaking it off, he turned to the American transfer.

“Anyway, moving on, that’s a hippogriff.  Really, Winchester, with a line as old as yours, you’d think you’d know that.  Don’t they teach you anything at all in Salem?”

“Ya, well, we seem to be lacking in chicken-headed horse things back in the States, what of it?   Ugly critter couldn’t hold a candle to my Impala anyway.”

Malfoy blinked. 

“You are allowed to have impalas as familiars in Salem?” The blond boy whined.  “That’s so completely unfair.  Hogwarts only allows cats, frogs, or owls.”

“What?  No kid, you’ve got the wrong idea –“

But Dean never got to finish his statement, for the chicken-horse had landed ( _with a slightly green looking Potter quickly sliding off of him, looking like he wanted to vomit.  Dean could relate_.) and was approaching _Dean_.

Dean watched with some degree of trepidation as the thing got far too close into his personal space, tilted its head and blinked its big blue eyes at him.

Dean blinked back.

“Err, best not move, Mr. Winchester, jus’ let ‘em sniff ya, ‘e won’t hurt ya none…” the Whoregrid guy said, watching the chicken thing carefully.  “I hope…” the big guy added under his breath.

Dean took that as a challenge and reached up and scratched the thing under the chin.  “Who’s a big chicken-horse, you are, yes you… such a big, fat, chicken-horse…”

The chicken-horses’ blue-eyes narrowed at him.  It was a familiar expression, even on a crazy bird-horse, but for the life of him, Dean couldn’t place it.  And then the damned thing _smirked_ at him before deftly using its beak to grab the back of Dean’s robes and in a maneuver that defied all the laws of physics, plopped Dean on its back. 

Dean had about enough time to say “Oh _hell_ no, put me—“ before the thing was off the fucking ground and flying up, up, up into the air.  He immediately held on for dear life as the thing made a noise between a screech and a whinny giving Dean the distinct impression that the _HORRIBLE FLYING MONSTER_ was _LAUGHING_ at him. 

The _HORRIBLE FLYING MONSTER_ proceeded to tuck and dive ( _and no, Dean is never, ever gonna admit to the high pitch scream that absolutely did NOT come from any part of him, dammit!_ )

“PUT ME DOWN!  RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! LAND, YOU FLYING FUCK!”

They were above a big-ass lake when the chicken-horses’ head turned _all the way around_ and stared at him, before looking down at the lake, and then turning to him again with a flat look.  In Dean’s head, he heard Cas’s voice saying _‘are you really that suicidal, Dean?’_ , and okay, perhaps the Cas voice had a point as a big tentacle-covered squid-like appendage emerged out of the lake beneath them in an attempt to pull them down from the sky.  The creepy lake monster appendage came within inches of the chicken horses’ forelegs, forcing the chicken horse further up in the sky, and yeah, while landing right then might have been a bad idea, this wasn’t much better at _all_.

Dean buried his head down into the thing’s warm feathers and groaned, opening one eye occasionally, and when he was sure they were far enough beyond the lake that he wouldn’t have to deal with two freaking monsters, he forced himself to take a breath.

“Okay, OKAY, you’re a very pretty, PRETTY chicken-horse, the BEST chicken-horse in the HISTORY of chicken-horses, CAN WE LAND NOW?” ( _Fuck you, it wasn’t his fault his voice cracked.  You try going through puberty twice and see how YOU like it!_ )

The chicken-horse snorted and finally seemed to give in ( _Hallelujah, Praise Chuck-who-ain’t-in-Heaven_ ), and spiraled down gracefully, coming to a stop at an isolated hill close to the Castle, yet away from the class of kids he was supposed to be with. 

Dean rolled off the creature like he was on fire, immediately dropping to all fours and kissing the fucking ground.  The chicken-horse found this very amusing apparently, as the thing dropped _to its back_ and started rolling around, screech-whinnying up a freaking storm. 

Dean responded by rolling onto his back and glaring at the stupid thing while it regained its senses enough to roll back onto its four weird feet.  The thing had the most triumphant look in its (unnervingly familiar) blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.  You’ve had your fun.  Now what?” Dean asked, scowling at the chicken-horse.  By some miracle, he had managed to maintain hold of his lunch – it had been a close call though.  He highly doubted the chicken-horse would be so amused if he hadn’t.

The chicken-horse rolled his eyes, and gave Dean a look that he vaguely translated as _‘are you an idiot, or what,’_ which just resulted in Dean scowling at it even more than he already was. 

The chicken-horse seemed to give up with a huff, and stretched out his gleaming black wings, as if that was supposed to mean any fucking thing at all.

“Ya done preening? – Hey, _hey_ , personal space!” Dean said, scandalized, for when the wing-display didn’t appear to make an impression the chicken-horse walked right up to him and started rooting around in his robes.

“Hey!” Dean said, once more for good measure, when the chicken-horse pulled Baby junior from the inside of his robes and proceeded to use its beak to dig it into the ground.  “What the fuck do you think you are doing, you’re going to get her dirt—“

But he cut off mid-word as he saw the ‘D’ start to form in the earth, followed by ‘E’ and then ‘A’ and ‘N’, all crafted very slowly and deliberately.

The chicken-horse gently wiped Baby junior against the grass and placed it carefully back inside of Dean’s robes, before backing up and raising its wings again.

Dean couldn’t speak.  He swallowed once, twice, his eyes full of tears that didn’t fall.

_“Cas?”_

The big feathered head of the chicken-horse nuzzled him gently and seemed to sigh before yanking two HUGE feathers out of its left wing and gently placing them inside of the same inner robe pocket where Dean kept Baby junior. 

“Cas???” Dean tried again.  But as soon as the feathers were safely tucked away in Dean’s robes, the blue of the chicken-horses’ eyes seemed to fade into a dull orange.  The animal that was left shook its head in confusion, and disregarded Dean entirely as it took to the sky, headed back towards the place where the class was still in session.

Dean’s cheeks were wet as he watched it go.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Reality 2340987, Hogwarts ... moar later still_ **

 

“So, you’re saying part of Cas was in Buckbeak?” Sammy asked later, as Jack took the two feathers from Dean and merged them with the little blue box.

“Apparently.   Please tell me we are almost done here, because I don’t think I can take anymore of this shit.  Stupid chicken-horse Cas decided I needed to get up close and personal with the sky.  And the snake kids are mad at me again, for some reason.  Something about the chicken-horse attacking one of them.  Like it’s my fault, or something.”

“Wait, Cas attacked one of the kids?”

“No Sammy, don’t you pay attention to anything at all?  I said the chicken-horse did.  Not Cas.”

“But you said –“

Jack, who was getting better and better and deciphering ‘Winchester’ decided to interject.

“I believe that your brother is trying to tell you that the hippogriff attacked one of the children after the remnant of CASTIEL provided the pieces of GRACE to Dean, and therefore the remnant of CASTIEL was no longer a part of the host animal.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Dean added, miffed that Sammy just didn’t get it.  Sheesh, and he was supposed to be the smart one. “Hey, why do you always say things like that?”

“Say what like what?” Jack responded.

“Like you’re typing in all caps with your mouth.”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“You know what, never mind.  How many pieces are left here?”

“I believe just one.  Although the probability of obtaining it is infinitely small, I think, since the ‘magic’ around here is blocking me.”

Dean face-planted.  “You know Jack, if you’re going to call yourself a Winchester, you should learn rule number one.”

“And that is?”

“Don’t tempt fate.”

 

* * *

 

 

**_Reality 2340987, Hogwarts ... aw, heck, they're stuck at the moment._ **

 

It turns out that what was difficult about getting the third and last piece, was pissing off the head of his own house enough to earn himself a detention.    Sammy and Jack had already concluded that the pieces of GRACE seemed to have an affinity to Dean in this dimension, and that therefore, he would have to be responsible for collecting the last one. 

They already knew where it was, as Super-Nerd-Sam went around the whole school following his wand ( _heh_ ) while it glowed like a spark-plug.  

“ _It’s a point-me spell Dean, not that difficult to learn.  All you have to do is say point-me and it works like a compass._ ”

 Dean had no desire to desecrate Baby junior by turning her into some glorified glow-worm, so he let Sammy take the lead on this one.

Sammy’s wand ( _heh!_ ) led them directly to the statues guarding the Headmaster’s Office, and after several failed attempts at guessing the password –

_“I thought you read the books, Sammy… does this mean little Sammy doesn’t actually know the answer? Wait, let me mark that on the calendar.”_

_“Shut up, jerk!”_

_“Bitch!”_

_“I don’t understand your verbal exchange.  Is it customary to insult your brethren?  You are both akin to the hair on the back side of a camel!”_

_“Jack, you’re just not ready for that, so quit while your ahead, okay?”_

_“Ahead of what?  I’m behind both of you.”_

\-- the inevitable conclusion was that Dean was going to have to get there some other way.  And considering how often his head of house seemed to like to tromp Potter up there every time the kid so much as sneezed in the wrong direction, Dean figured that ‘Plan Piss Off Snape and Get Sent To The Principal’s Office’ was a go.

He just didn’t take into consideration at all how very forgiving the dude was of the kids in his own house, and how much of a rat bastard the guy could be to everyone else.  I mean, it wasn’t like Dean wasn’t _trying…_

 

* * *

 

****

“That’s not ten pages!  We are supposed to write ten pages worth of parchment about werewolves, not one line, weren’t you listening to anything he had to say?” The mousey-brown haired lion girl screeched at him as he wrote exactly one line on his essay and rolled it up before turning it in with a shrug.

**You kill the fuckers, silver through the heart or brain.   Then you salt and burn the corpse.**

He was dismayed when he received it back with an ‘O’ for Outstanding.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dean, they are playing against Griffindor and they look like they are actually winning.  If you were to get on a broom and somehow sabotage the game...”

“Yeah, no.  Just no.”

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, fuck you little fuckers, I’m the best pony!” He tried once, shouting at Sammy and Jack from across the hall.

“Language, Mr. Winchester.  That will be five points from Slytherin.  And twenty points from Ravenclaw for each of you for provoking him.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean even convinced the portrait guarding the common room to change the password from ‘pure-blood’ to ‘Is it DNA or Olay?’, which backfired completely.

How the fuck was he supposed to know that ‘olay’ was also the name of a rare variety of magical serpent whose venom was considered almost priceless in creating dark potions?  These people have no appreciation for good ‘ole pop culture references.

It earned Slytherin twenty points.

On the upside, no one was mad at him anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

He was twirling Baby junior (he liked to do so; at times he could almost feel her rumble with quietly restrained power) and absently watching the rest of the kids in the common room gossip about some black dude and Potter when the answer came to him, as he thought once again how that blond kid really needed a bottle of Clairol for Men. 

After that it was almost too easy.

 

* * *

 

“Fucking magic locks.  Hey, Baby junior, think you can help me out here?”  Dean asked his wand.  He smiled when her point sharpened in response, and he stuck her tip into the lock, looking for the tumblers.  For all the magic they had at their disposal, these wizards would never expect someone to actually pick a lock in such a ‘muggle’ way, and the lock only had one tumbler engaged.  Easy as taking candy from a baby.  Except he wasn’t an asshole and wouldn’t do that and the only asshole he knew that probably would was dead.

The lock gave way easily, and he quietly opened the door. 

Years of hunting had made him stealthy-as-hell, no invisibility spells or capes required for him, thank you very much, and sneaking up on the greasy bastard, even though the guy was _paranoid as hell_ was a cake-walk. 

“Howdy, Prof!” Dean said loudly.

The professor awoke with a gasp.  Dean grinned and winked at him as he dumped the whole bottle of sleep potion in his mouth, ensuring that the bastard got a good look at him before he slumped down unconscious.

Whistling softly to himself, he produced from the inner pockets of his robes the supplies he had Sammy transfigure for him and started to get to work.

 

* * *

 

“…somehow broke into my quarters while I was ASLEEP and magicked my hair PINK and I _CAN’T REMOVE THE SPELL,_ ”  Dean snorted to himself as he sat in front of the Headmaster’s desk, watching Snape flip his shit. 

 _‘Yeah, good luck with that,’_ Dean thought.

If he’d a known a bottle of peroxide and a tin of Manic-Panic Cotton Candy was all he needed to get in here, he’d have had Sammy transfigure those items ages ago.

“I don’t _CARE_ who his family is, I don’t _CARE_ that he’s in my house, this _LITTLE BRAT_ needs to be _EXPELLED_.  NEVER in my –“

“Severus, why don’t we take this conversation, err, elsewhere for a moment?  Mr. Winchester?  Do be a good lad and stay there while I have a talk with your Head of House.  Help yourself to a lemon sherbert – they are in the orange colored tin on your left.”

 _‘Fucking FINALLY,’_ Dean thought as he watched the creepy old dude direct the fuming potions master to his fireplace.  The headmaster threw some strange dust into it and then they were both gone in a green flash, leaving Dean alone to finally, finally search the room.

Except that while looking along the various strange items thrown about in seemingly no order at all, nothing even looked remotely like a feather or a bottle of angel grace.

“Wha – get off, bird, I’m looking for something,” Dean murmured as he pushed the big orange and red parrot of his arm and crawled under the Headmaster’s desk.  Maybe he taped it underneath?

“Ow – will you – get off!”

For the parrot was now pecking rather insistently at his leg.  Dean kicked it loose.

Well, it wasn’t under the desk.  Hey, what about that strange bowl of water thing over at the other side of the room?  There were some jars above it … could one of them have any Angel gra-

“OW WHAT THE FUCK, you are a PERSISTANT FU… oh.  Uh… Hi Cas?”

Because eventually even Dean could take a clue, especially when said clue looked absolutely nothing like a parrot on second glance, and was staring at him with blue-eyes filled with exasperation while plucking out a single black feather amongst its orange and red plumage.

 

* * *

 

“Well, I got the last bit and I’ve got detention for the next five years.”

“You would graduate in four,” Sam replied, “if you were a real student.”

“Yup,” Dean grinned.  He was rather proud of that one.

Sam rolled his eyes, while Jack took the feather and merged it with the cube. 

“I have the next set of coordinates,” he said, and touched them both on the shoulder.

The only one to see them leave was Luna Lovegood, but then again, she was the only one who knew that they had ever been there at all. 

Potter lost fifty house points for somehow turning Snape’s hair pink in his sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onto the next reality! Whoo hoo! Also, feedback is much loved and much appreciated!


	6. Chapter 5 - Dean's just a poor boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his.
> 
> \--George S. Patton

**_Reality Zero, QUS Lab_ **

 

“I can’t believe it… it worked!”  Charlie said with a smile, watching the small strings of data coalesce into a larger stream.

“Yay, team Win-chesters!” GABRIEL added, smiling.  “Whoot whoot!”

“Yes, let’s all be impressed with infinitely small miracles.”

“Awe, don’t be such a ‘cup-half-empty’ kinda guy Morty!  We need as many small miracles as we can get, considering our resident miracle maker in the QUS has taken himself out of the game,” GABRIEL replied with a smile.

Amara, meanwhile had more important things to think about. 

“Charlie dear, have you managed to isolate any other simulations with pieces of CASTIEL?”  She asked, frowning at the poor girl who apparently seemed be running a fever with how red she’d been getting.  She’d have RAPHEAL check her out later, after this fiasco was all over with.

“A couple.  I sent over the coordinates for one just a few moments ago,” Charlie answered, concentrating on the blocks of code in the air. “Oh.  Uh… damn.  Oh shit!”

“Not sounding very encouraging, Charlie,” Amara said with a frown.  

“It’s just that… well… it’s not a very healthy simulation.”

“Ooh, is it the one where LUCIFER takes over Sammy and breaks all of daddy’s toys?” GABRIEL asked.

Charlie sighed as she interpreted the code before her.

“Not quite.  This one is a divergent timeline.  It looks as if it might have branched from the main ancestor simulations sometime around WWII.  Also, I’m picking up on Sam and Dean, but there is way too much interference here to isolate the NEPHILIM – the whole simulation is filled with weird, malicious injections of code.”

“Probably because the simulation might be filled with other NEPHILIM remnants,” GABRIEL shrugged.  “A lot of them were just too powerful.  Best we could do is break them up and spread them around.”

“Like a virus,” Charlie deadpanned. 

GABRIEL shrugged.  “Pretty much.  Chuck Almighty only cared about the simulation he personally was living in at any given time, if he cared at all.  So, we ‘smited’ the NEPHILIM when ordered, scattering their essence across the multiverse, but in reality, all we were doing is breaking up the rogue AI’s into smaller copies of themselves.  That’s pretty much what a ‘smiting’ was – disruption of code.  For DEMON code or even ANGEL code, a ‘smiting’ would burn it out.  NEPHILIM were an anomaly, and so ‘smiting’ them didn’t exactly have the effects we expected.   The remnants remaining corrupted a number of simulations in the QUS.  Chuck eventually isolated the simulations with remnants from the rest of the QUS, but the creation of a new NEPHILIM and opening of doors have blown all the simulations wide open.  Eventually, all the simulations will corrupt and die now – it’s inevitable.  Some are just further along than others.  This is probably one of them. ”

“So, this simulation.  Is it dangerous?” Amara asked, getting right to the crux of the issue.

“Very.  And if they die in the simulation, with the GOD protocols off…”

“…they’ll be recycled right into another one with no memory of themselves or CASTIEL,” Amara finished for her, closing her eyes in frustration.

“Well, fuck,” Charlie added.

And since no one could add anything else to that assessment, no one else spoke.

 

* * *

 

**_Reality 76312, ERROR – FILE CORRUPTED – RECALIBRATING_ **

*groan*

“Geroff, Sammy,” Dean said, spitting brown hair out of his mouth, as he pushed Sam off of him.  Jack wasn’t very precise this time, as the tow of them landed in a heap. 

There were three things he noticed right away.  First, it was just him and Sammy – Jack was nowhere to be seen.  Second, he had some kind of weird shiny black machine attached to his right arm that was ticking rather incessantly at him.  And third, he was in the biggest shithole of a run-down school room that he had ever seen.  Desks were flipped over on their side, books were in various states of decay strewn about, even the monitor on the teacher’s desk looked like something out of the 1980s and was flickering with an eerie green light.  

A ratty poster was hung on one wall.   “Surface Never!  Vault Tec Forever!” it proclaimed cheerily while a badly drawn cartoon character gave a thumbs up, a couple of mushroom clouds exploding in the background.

“FUCKER’S KILLED US A…” was written in dried blood in a slant downwards on of the walls leading towards the door.  The skeleton at the end of the blood graffiti was very small.  Too small.

“Goddamn it.” Dean said upon seeing it. 

“Yeah,” Sammy agreed.

The two of them picked themselves off of the floor, taking stock of each other and their surroundings.  Dismal, dirty, decrepit, destroyed – lots of adjectives beginning in ‘d’ immediately came to mind.  Wherever they were, it wasn’t anywhere good.

“Dean, what is that thing on your arm?” Sam asked, approaching him.

“Dunno.  Kinda landed here with it,” Dean started fiddling with the knobs attached to the side of it.  When nothing happened immediately, he hit it with his other hand.  A sickly green terminal screen loaded up, with the words PIP-BOY – VAULT-TEC PROTOTYPE V. 6.7.  These words were shortly replaced by a slightly frowning version of the poster cartoon figure in the middle of the screen.    USER:  GEN WINCHESTER, D. was printed in flickering green letters above it, and underneath were some additional letters and numbers.  One line was blinking furiously.  ACTIVATE VOICE INTERFACE? Y/N.   He screwed around with the dials a bit more, finding an inventory management screen, radio, quest log and a few other things, before flipping back to the screen with the blinking Y/N. 

Not finding any keyboard, or any other form of user input, he shrugged to himself.

“Yes.”

“Accepting input – VOICE MATCH confirmed.  Audio protocols online.  Warning: it’s been 227 years, 8 months and 3 days since last OS update.  Would you like to update now?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Dean, are you really talking to that thing on your arm?  You don’t even know what it is – it could be a bomb, for all we know.  You should at least let me take a look at it.”

“No way, Sammy.  Pip-baby here’s mine, and I’m driving.”

Sam just rolled his eyes.

Meanwhile, pib-baby kept up a running dialogue of warnings.

“WARNING.  Unable to connect to VAULT-TEC network.  WARNING.  Minor radiation levels detected in vicinity.  WARNING. Hostile detected at 12.5 meters.  WARNING.  Unable to connect to VAULT-TEC redundancy network.  WARNING.  Hostile detected at 10 meters. WARNING.”

“Okay, okay, we get it, knock off the warnings for a minute,” Dean said quietly.  Fuck.  He was back in his normal street clothes, and the only weapon he had on him was a knife strapped to his boot.   Sam was already quietly moving behind the teacher’s desk as it seemed to provide the most cover in the room, when the door started to open. 

Dean barely had enough time to pull his knife out of his boot and hold it out before the biggest fucking cockroach he had ever seen pushed its way through the door and launched itself _straight at him._

The cockroach impaled itself on knife, but that only seemed to piss it off more, and Dean had a couple of angry antenna shoved into his face as well as a few glowing green appendages trying to rip a hole into his arms.  He shoved the disgusting thing off of his knife, where it landed on the floor with a hiss, still not dead as it readied itself for another attack.

**_*BANG*_ **

The gunshot came from behind him, splattering the mutant cockroach into a pile of goo.  Dean whipped around to see Sam holding a 10 mm semi-automatic.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

Sam shrugged.  “It was in the teacher’s desk.  Along with a box of ammo, some bobby pins, and several empty bottles of whiskey.”

Dean snorted.  “Nice classroom.  I’m sure the kids here felt real safe,” he said, frowning once again at the skeleton against the wall.  “That computer still looks like it’s working,” Dean continued, brushing himself off and grimacing at the puddle of dead mutant cockroach.

“What the hell do you think that thing was?” He asked Sam.

“Identifying deceased subject – _RAD ROACH_ ,” Pip-baby answered.

Sam and Dean shared a look, before once again taking in the room.  Specifically, the poster on the wall with the cartoon mushroom clouds in the background.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think this is a good place.”

“Yeah.”

“Check out that old computer, can’t believe the fucking thing has power… where is it plugged into?”

“No idea,” Sam answered as he walked up to the flickering green terminal.  “Looks like it’s right out of the early 80s, but it has an internal power source.  Odd.  Hmm, let’s see.  Oh, for fucks sake, you got to be kidding me – this is what passes for security?  The password is ‘Apple’.”  Sam tinkered around for a bit.  “Few log entries, but the dates on them don’t make any sense.  First one is from May 1 2102.”

Dean and Sam both leaned in to read the journal entries on the flickering terminal.

**_May 1 2012._ **

_May day.  Used to be a pagan holiday.  Then it became a war time cry for help.  Now it just reminds me of everything we’ve lost.  It’s been far too long since we’ve been cramped up in this hellhole.  How am I supposed to teach astronomy to a class of apathetic kids that have never even seen the sun?  I hate this place, I hate Vault-Tec, I hate my job, I am beginning to hate my wife.  Lucy doesn’t even talk to me anymore._

**_August 11 2102_ **

_Lucy died yesterday.  She bribed the old Doc out of a good portion of his Med-X, kissed me goodnight for the first time in years, and I woke up to see her stuck with needles like a pin cushion.  Now I’m alone.  Our son is all grown up, and I’m teaching my grandson who is dumb as a rock.  All these little fuckers are dumb as rocks.   Goddamn it, why do I even bother?  Not a damn one of them even listen to me.  Doc is scared as shit right now, because he knows Lucy’s death is on him.   I should turn him into the Overseer.  Would if I gave a fuck._

**_October 3, 2102_ **

_Finally corned the Doc.  Figured not much I could do about Lucy’s death, but I thought the old bastard might have something to make these fucking kids pay attention and learn something for once.  This job sucks.  I threatened to tell the Overseer that Doc was handing out Med-X to any would-be suicide willy-nilly; a sure way to get himself shot and he knows it.  Told him I didn’t want to be teaching a bunch of dumb sheep no more, and he better figure something out to get these kids to pay attention.  Knew they used to have drugs for that shit before the war.  Doc’s a smart guy; he’ll figure something out if he wants to live._

**_November 12, 2102_ **

_Fucking finally!  I don’t know what Doc gave the brats, but for once, they all are fucking listening to me; even taking notes.  All at the same time._

_Little fucking creepy that they all seem to be in sync, but whatever.  At least they’re learning._

_That is, except for Jeffrey.  Knew that kid was as dumb as a brick.  Told Lucy that Sherry birthed a fool.  She married one; what’d she expect?  Any brains in this family stopped with me._

**_December 14, 2102_ **

_They are all starting to look the same.  They walk the same.  Eat the same.  Talk the same.  Turn in the same work, even though they’re not copying off each other.  I’ve been watching for that shit._

_Fucking creepy little fuckers.  Smart creepy little fuckers.  What the fuck did the doc give them?_

**_December 18, 2102_ **

_Everyone is in sync.  Everyone except me and the idiot boy.  Goddamn it.  Even the fucking Overseer.  They are all fucking watching me.  All of them.  Fuck._

_Jeffrey blames me for this shit.  He ain’t wrong._

“That’s the last one,” Sam said, backing away from the computer with a frown.

“Oooaaakkaaayy, not liking this place at all,” Dean said.  “Five dollars says that’s Jeffrey,”  Dean continued,  pointing to the small skeleton by the blood graffiti.

Sam grimaced. 

“I’m not taking that bet.  Let’s just focus on finding Jack and Cas’s grace, and move on.”

With a brief burst of static, Pip-baby made her presence known again.

“PRIMARY QUEST UPDATED – Jacked In.  SECONDARY QUEST UPDATED – Saving Grace.”

Dean looked down at the strange machine on his wrist and noticed that there was now a map of the area in which they were in and a glowing green compass marker. 

* * *

 

**_Reality 76312, ERROR – FILE CORRUPTED – VAULT 440_ **

 

“This place is a graveyard,” Dean said, as they carefully made their way through what appeared to be an underground fallout shelter – one built for long term survival, although one that had obviously failed in that goal based on the number of skeletons lying about.  It almost appeared as if the residents of this place all died at the same time, all while going about their daily business, based on the way the bodies were found.  Some slumped over at tables and desks; a lot of dead on the floor in the hallways, and he didn’t even want to get into the number of small skeletons they saw in the residential areas.  Even in the medical area, it looks as if the staff just dropped where they stood.  That is, except for one body they found behind a desk next to another 10mm semi-automatic pistol, and another box of ammunition.  The hole in the top of the man’s skeleton all too well indicated the cause of death.

Grim-faced, Dean pocketed the second 10mm and ammo, and pointed out the flickering terminal still working on the desk to Sam.

“Guess this is probably ‘Doc’,” Dean stated, prodding at the body by the desk with the toe of his right boot.  He had to repress a shiver.  This place was dead in a fundamental way that struck him to his core. 

“Yeah,” Sammy said, quickly going to work on the terminal.  Meanwhile, Dean had noticed a white medical box against the wall.  It was locked, but he did take those bobby pins from the teacher’s office, which he immediately put to use.  He broke two before he felt the lock click into place.   There were several syringes called ‘stim-packs’, which he took, along with two IV solutions of something called ‘RAD-AWAY’ – he took those as well, stashing them into a worn canvas backpack he had found in one of the residential areas.  At the very back of the medical cabinet were several tins of MENTATS and a big bottle of pills called MENTATS-RAD-EXPERIMENTAL.  He took the tins, but left the big bottle of pills, figuring anything that was tagged ‘RAD-EXPERIMENTAL’ couldn’t be a good thing.

Sammy only confirmed it when he managed to load up the log entries on the doctor’s monitor.

“Dean, take a look.  They… ugh, I just can’t,” Sam said, walking away from the monitor, his hands balled in fists.

Dean wasn’t even sure he wanted to look, but pure morbid curiosity had him scrolling through the Doc’s log entries.

**_May 5 2102_ **

_I can’t think anymore.  I’m getting old, just like everyone who wasn’t born in this Godforsaken vault.  Even the MENTATS aren’t helping stave off the Alzheimer’s.  Gregory isn’t anywhere near ready to take over as Head of Medical, and I don’t think anyone in this next generation of children are going to be slated for medical after their Generalized Occupational Aptitude Tests -- at least if Russell is to be believed.  This vault is doomed unless I can come up with something._

**_May 9 2012_ **

_I’ve been debating the merits of Nuka Cola lately, and how minor exposure to radiation tends to enhance the stimulating effects of the drink.  Before the war, when other Doctors were handing out prescriptions for Ritalin and Adderall like crazy to children just so they could sit still in a class room, I was always recommending that parents start their children on a minor stimulant, such as a caffeinated beverage, or nicotine prior to prescribing any Methamphetamines.   However, this generation of children appear to be immune to such effects from either caffeine or nicotine – even Nuka Cola with its trace amounts of radiation doesn’t appear to assist in either my own attempts at staying focused; this disease is progressing rapidly.  I am not a pharmacist – this vault was not fortunate enough to receive one in the lottery.  However, I do get a marginal effect from the MENTATS, but the withdrawal… I need a formulation that is long lasting – permanent perhaps.   I think perhaps combining the MENTATS with a high dose of caffeine and a moderate level of radiation might do the trick.  I have nothing to lose by trying it._

**_May 18 2102_ **

_It’s amazing – I’m thinking clearer than I have in years, and I haven’t even begun to feel the slightest effects of withdrawal.  In fact, I think I could make this formulation even stronger.  Perhaps a higher dose of radiation might be the key._

**_August 9 2102_ **

_Lucy came to me today.  I told her about the formulation, and she agreed to try it.    If it works for focus, maybe it will also work for depression and thus assist with her physical pain, which I have repeatedly told her was psychological in nature._

_I also prescribed her monthly allotment of Med-X, but I doubt that she’ll have need of it._

**_August 10 2102_ **

_Back to the drawing board, as Lucy committed suicide by using her entire monthly allotment of Med-X all at once.  Perhaps adding a little Jet to the formulation will help with any possible psychological effects.   I know it violates the Vault code of ethics, but in this case I believe I must try.  I really am onto something here!_

**_October 4 2102_ **

_The nerve of that man!  Threatening me! ME!_

_But I’ve perfected my formula, I believe, and Russell has given me the prime candidates to test it out on, so perhaps I should not judge him too harshly._

_That grandson of his will not profit from my genius.  I won’t waste my precious formula on that brat._

**_December 15 2102_ **

_We are amazing.  We are one._

**_December 20 2102_ **

_We have the Overseer among us._

_We know this vault will not sustain life much longer.  We know there is no future.  We know that Vault Tec is a lie.  We know that we are an experiment designed to fail._

**_December 24 2102_ **

_We believe it is more humane to interrupt the oxygen recycler than doom us to this_ _madness._

_We have the key.  We are the Vault._

_We will gift release to all._

_We will start with Father._

_We are one._

 

* * *

 

“This place is sick, Dean.   They experimented on kids – with irradiated drugs.  We need to get out of here.”

“Yeah, I’m about done myself,” Dean said.  “Giant cockroaches, dead kids, fucked up doctors.  Let’s find the exit to this hell hole, if there is one.  Betcha I find it first.”

But when they did find the giant vault door, using Dean’s pip-baby to open it up, they only found even more skeletons in the tunnel just outside of it.  It was dark, so Dean used the built-in flashlight pip-baby seemed to have to help guide their way out of the tunnel into the nighttime sky.  The tunnel opened to a beach near what had to be one of the Great Lakes overlooking a ruined city.   Chicago maybe?  Cleveland? 

Both Dean and Sam looked around in shock – everything was destroyed, devastated, crumbling and dead.  The lake was glowing, there was no green plant life anywhere to be seen and pip-baby was clicking softly away.

“About that exit you were looking for?  Yeah, I’m not going to take that bet either.” Sam commented grimly.

 

* * *

 

 _Footnote_ – Level up! Perks Added – Wasteland Warrior (Dean), Science! (Sam)

*lol* ;P


End file.
